


Wicked Witch Seeks Good Woman

by Apartment41



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, F/F, Magic, POV Female Character, Witches, necromancer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 01:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18435875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apartment41/pseuds/Apartment41
Summary: Kat is a witch living in Seattle. Karrow is an FBI agent tracking her down. Kat likes moonlit walks hunting the innocent. Karrow like longs stakeouts hunting the guilty. Kat likes perfumes concocted from the blood of her victims. Karrow likes Dove brand deodorant. Kat likes Karrow. Karrow prefers not to mix business with pleasure. It's a match made in hell.





	1. Chapter 1

Kat walked into her apartment, her cheeks as white as the snow clinging to her hair. She walked down the hallway, pausing just long enough to kick her dark boots off and slip out of her backpack. She headed for the kitchen, laying her gloves on the dining room table.

She flicked the living room and kitchen lights on while humming a tuneless song, danced around the kitchen table and pulled an ornate wooden box out from a cabinet of fine China. She unlocked the box with a tap of her finger, set the box on the table and opened it with a smile already stretching across crimson lips.

“Guess who I ran into,” she said to the skull resting inside the box.

“Again?” the skull replied.

 

Kat gently lifted the skull out of its box and held it aloft, always keeping it so the two were eye to eye-hole. She walked over to her wine rack, chose one at random, and set the bottle on the kitchen counter top.

“Well, first, I may have been a bit… sloppy,” Kat said.

“Heaven forbid, I couldn’t imagine such a thing,” the skull said. It spoke with a woman’s voice in an almost-English accent, the noise seeming to come from all around Kat. She smirked, retrieved a wine glass and the bottle, then walked to the couch.

Plopping down in her favorite spot, she set the skull, bottle, and glass on the coffee table. Then she lit several candles with a wave of her hand.

“I know, hard to believe,” Kat said with a roll of her eyes. She tapped the wine bottle with the tip of her finger, and frost covered it at once. She tapped the cork stopper and it launched into the air. She caught it in her palm and poured herself a generous serving. “Sometimes I like to enjoy myself – take my time. But, one person sees, they scream, they disappear, someone sees that, they call the cops, a few cops start acting funny, it’s all down hill from there.”

“And that’s when she showed up,” the skull said.

Kat raised her wine glass and winked.

 

_Agent Karrow eased around a corner, her FN Five-seven trained down the hallway, its magazine loaded with twenty rounds of needle nosed bullets, suppressor snapped in place._

_She’d gotten the call a half hour ago. Some of the local homeless had been heard screaming bloody murder. A break in at the hospital. Doctors, nurses and police milling around in a daze. No one knew why._

_She was out the door before dispatch finished briefing her._

_Now Kat waited in the shadows, her work finished. She could leave at any time. But Agent Karrow had only just arrived. A rare treat…_

 

She took a sip of the wine. Ice cold. Just how she liked it. She smiled.

“Ugh, _Marceline_ … she wanted me dead this time,” Kat said, taking another sip. She glanced towards Marceline, resting there on the coffee table. She considered pouring her a glass. But without… any of the equipment needed to drink, it would only be a sick joke. Which she’d already pulled fifty years ago. Marceline had politely laughed. Everyone else thought it was hilarious. Kat promised she’d only make the joke once per century.

“Lest you forget, you murdered three people only a fortnight ago,” Marceline said. Kat shrugged. They’d been over this before. The homeless and drug addicted barely counted as people but _what can you do._ Kat sniffed. _Seattle. What a bunch of bleeding hearts…_

She took a sip of the wine. It was excellent. But Kat had excellent taste.

“I _know,_ ” Kat sighed. “She was quick to remind me.”

 

_“Freeze, witch!” Karrow bellowed. She ejected one magazine and slapped in another, the Five-seven’s slide making a **CLACK** as it slammed shut. Kat smiled._

_She leapt out of the shadows beside Karrow, her body wreathed in smoke. She drifted past Karrow with the grace of a ballerina, her smile stretching wide when she saw the agent’s look of shock. She reached out a narrow hand, long gloved fingers stretching towards a freckled brown face._

_Karrow scowled and ducked, Kat’s fingers tracing through the agent’s curly black hair. Karrow rolled across the floor, sprang into a crouch, leveled her weapon and took aim._

 

“She put up a good fight,” Kat said. She slumped back into the couch and drained the rest of her glass. She poured herself another. She glanced around her apartment. It was quiet. She took a sip. Quiet evening. Now, at least.

“What happened next?” Marceline asked.

Kat shrugged. “Not much. I didn’t want to push my luck. She would’ve had me if it wasn’t a full moon.”

Marceline let out a long sigh. “You best be careful. Agent Karrow is a formidable opponent. This is not a victory.”

Kat’s smirk deepened. “ I _know_ that… I was just,” the smirk shifted into a grin, “having fun.” She took another sip. “Harmless.”

She finished the glass, then the bottle. She considered getting another one from the wine rack but it was all the way across the room. Too far. She thought about putting something on TV. But she didn’t know what to watch. She thought about going to bed, but she wasn’t really tired enough yet. She thought about reading, but knew she’d lose interest quickly.

She looked at her wristwatch. **12:03 A.M.** Saturday night, or Sunday morning, rather, had barely begun. Here she was, alone in her apartment. Well, her, Marceline, and her backpack.

_Ugh,_ Kat thought, _I still have that to unpack._

She was about to get up when Marceline cleared her… throat.

“You like seeing Agent Karrow,” she said.

Kat paused.

“Not really. I prefer to work in peace.”

Kat waited for Marceline to say something back. But when she didn’t answer, Kat stood from the couch. Swaying slightly, she strolled down the hallway, retrieved her backpack, and brought it into the kitchen. She unrolled a sheet of plastic on the kitchen counter and set the pack beside it.

“Every month I do this and it’s always _so, **so** fun_,” she muttered.

“What do you think of Karrow?” Marceline called from the living room.

Kat shrugged and zipped her black jacket up to her throat. It was neoprene, and easy to wash. Certainly easier than her silk shirt. Then she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and unzipped her backpack.

“I like her,” Kat said. She stuck a hand into a plastic bag within the pack and searched for something to grab onto, all the while making disgusted faces for Marceline’s amusement.

“Karrow’s tough, smart… funny. Sarcastic, which I like.” Finding purchase, Kat removed one of the severed heads she’d collected and set it onto the plastic cover. She had to take a step away from it. It smelled disgusting. Apparently the man hadn’t showered in months. Or years. Death wasn’t an improvement.

“Yes, I see,” Marceline said. Kat cocked an eyebrow in her direction and stuck her hand back inside the bag.

She retrieved two more heads and three hearts. She paired them up and arranged them on the plastic like cookies on a metal sheet.

“Why do you ask?” Kat tried to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

“Just curious. You always talk about her.”

Kat twisted her lips.

She tapped each of the hearts with her finger, and each of them began pumping in sequence. Turning the heads towards her, she watched as each of them seemed to come alive. Eyes twitched, mouths opened, and soon each of the heads understood what had happened to them. They couldn’t scream without lungs to pump air into their throats. They did the best they could. Kat saw fear - raw, terrible, _primal_ fear across each of their faces.

She sighed in relief.

_Oh thank heavens,_ she thought. _Finally a good batch._

She hated going out twice in one evening. It was always so inconvenient.

Kat tapped on the hearts again, quieting them. The heads died for the second time. She slipped each pair into a burlap sack and stuffed them into the freezer. It was getting crowded in there. She pulled out a box of frozen English muffins to make room. She set it by the stove to thaw. She’d have them for breakfast.

Finished, Kat removed her gloves and washed her hands. They weren’t dirty, but she still found it comforting.

Marceline continued her inquisition. “You never really talk about anyone _besides_ Karrow, actually.”

Kat shut off the water and dried her hands with more vigor than usual.

“That’s not true at all! I talk about plenty of other women!”

“I don’t mean your pets…”

Kat flung the towel into the sink and looked at Marceline.

“So what if I talk about Karrow then, huh? She’s interesting.” Kat was surprised to hear how defensive she’d become.

“Yes, I agree…”

Kat cocked an eyebrow. “I _admire_ her.”

“I can see that.”

Kat glared at Marceline before looking at her watch. She didn’t want to watch TV, didn’t want to read, wasn’t particularly tired… but tired enough. She shut the kitchen light off with a look harsh enough to skewer a grown man.

“I’m going to bed,” she said sourly. She sighed. Exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t stay angry any longer. “Do you want me to put something on TV?” Kat snuffed out each of the candles by hand to better appreciate the smell.

“Could you put on the original Star Trek? I just started the second season.”

Kat almost laughed. As undead spirits went, Marceline wasn’t bad.

She turned Marceline towards the TV, which she switched on with a glance, opened up Netflix, and started an episode. She pulled a pair of wireless headphones from a cabinet and prepared to slip them over Marceline.

“Good night,” she said.

“Good night.”

Kat fitted the headphones over Marceline and switched off the lights just as Kirk sounded a red alert.

Kat walked into her bedroom and began to strip, her only illumination the moonlight pouring in from the window. Snow was falling heavy outside and it chilled the room. She barely noticed.

Naked, she pulled back the sheets and crawled into bed. She kicked her feet up, tucking the comforter under her legs. Then she rolled around until she’d wrapped herself up. She pulled the sheets to her nose and smiled. She was a blanket burrito. Cold air outside. Warm sheets inside. Perfect.

She drifted off to sleep quickly. Her last thought was of the fight with Agent Karrow. Of when she’d gotten so close to the agent she actually touched her. How just for the briefest of moments Kat’s nose had grazed past her hair. _Cinnamon,_ Kat realized just before sleep took her. _That’s what it smelled like._

_Cinnamon._


	2. Morning People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has their morning routine. Kat and Karrow are not different. But they're so very different from each other.

_“This’ll be the day we’ve waited for! This’ll be the day we open up the…!”_

Megan Karrow groped a hand under her pillow, took hold of her iPhone, and shook it once, silencing the alarm. It was 6:30 on a Sunday morning. Her day off. Supposedly.

She sighed and considered running out the snooze alarm. Another ten minutes of sleep would be _orgasmic_ right now. The sheets were so warm, her body was so heavy, and all she wanted to do was sleep in until the sun was up and she could spend the rest of her day in peace.

But she’d already filed her report. And she was already expected.

She sighed, pulled her phone out from under the pillow, and canceled her alarm. Three hours of sleep behind her, she threw off her covers and got out of bed.

 

She flipped a card over. Five of hearts. She walked over to her closet, grabbed onto the pull-up bar she’d bolted into the doorframe, and lifted herself off the ground.

_One, two, threeee… fooooooour… … … fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive._

She dropped back to the ground, laced her fingers behind her head, and breathed deep. Then she went back to the middle of the floor and flipped over another card. Seven of diamonds. She got down into the pushup position and got to work. Next was a nine of clubs. Then a three of spades.

She did all of them. She kept her mind blank. Everything she had was focused on what she was doing. And on the pulse-pounding music she had in the background. Thankfully her apartment walls were thick.

Fifty cards, not including jokers, highest value was fourteen, all told meant 105 pushups, pull ups, sit ups, and burpees. Each. In forty five minutes. She kept her mind focused on the current card. Best not to think about them all at once.

Best to get moving.

 

She showered quickly and ate a breakfast of oatmeal with raisins, cherries, strawberries and cinnamon while reading emails. One thread lasted for a dozen messages, all neatly summarized by the Chief.

_Last night never happened._

She cocked an eyebrow. She was starting to like this guy.

Finished, she dropped her bowl in the sink, downed a protein shake, and returned to the bathroom. She scanned herself up and down as she brushed her teeth. Moving to a new city and starting with a new bureau had been stressful, and her fitness standards had gotten lax. But she’d bounced back quickly enough. Her six pack had returned, and her shoulders looked more defined than ever. She flexed her arms to make sure her biceps were still there. They were.

After brushing she tidied up the bathroom and made her bed, then walked to her closet. It was a short walk. Her studio apartment was maybe 650 square feet. Luxurious by Seattle standards, from what she’d heard.

She dressed in last night’s clothes. Jeans and a grey button up shirt. Then she pulled her shoulder harness on. Her one remaining magazine was still inside her Five-seven. She’d have to stop by inventory before heading back into the field. She could almost feel her head hurting already. Forms upon forms for just a few… she counted… for just 45 measly rounds.

She placed the two empty magazines in their holsters, and stowed the suppressor in the concealed compartment behind the magazines. She’d never seen a reason to keep her suppressor locked away, or in plain sight. She patted down her belt and pockets to make sure her wallet, phone, headphones, keys, ID and spell book were all in the right places. She then stuffed her feet into her winter boots, pulled her brown sheepskin flight jacket on, grabbed a clip on tie and was out the door.

 

“Karrow, take a seat.”

Megan did so, careful to keep her cup of government-standard coffee steady in her hands. She got comfortable while Chief Bryant tapped away at his computer, satisfied to make her wait while he finished his business.

When she was certain his attention was entirely on the computer, she scanned around the office. It was a simple affair. Two book shelves on the far wall separated by a cabinet. A large wooden desk piled high with paper. An old laptop and an even older monitor. Megan angled her head to get a better look at the computer. As expected, it was an H.P. Just like every other government office she’d worked in. Apparently bureaucrats weren’t Apple fans.

She spread her hands wide and glanced at Chief Bryant. Section Chief Bryant, more appropriately. Middle aged. Light brown hair. No sign of a bald spot. The start of a belly, but Megan could see his arms were still in solid shape. He’d been a Marine once. She knew the physical fitness regimen died quicker than the drinking habits.

With a final **_clack_** on his keyboard, Bryant finished his work and turned his attention to her. He had blue eyes, and Karrow had to give him credit. He knew how to use them.

“Alright, let’s hear it,” he started.

“You read my report.”

“And commented on it. I want to hear it from you.”

Megan tapped her finger against the chair. “Anything in particular?”

“Tell me about the witch. And not the sanitized version either – I want your impression of her.”

Megan nodded her head and leaned back in her seat, taking an occasional sip as she gathered her thoughts. She’d spent two hours at the hospital after the fight, making sure Sanitation patched every one of her bullet holes, and every witness’s memory had been wiped clean. After being relieved she’d spent another hour writing her report.

And during all that time she hadn’t stopped thinking about the witch.

“Strange as it is to say, sir, but I don’t think she tried to kill me – didn’t want to, at any rate,” Megan said with a frown.

Bryant opened his hands wide to her. “Explain.”

“This is the third time I’ve encountered her. The first time, I arrived on scene, and poof – she was gone. I barely managed to get a look at her. The second time, at Seward Park, I got the impression she was studying me – keeping her distance, always moving to my flank, waiting for me to react. But she left quick enough.” Megan took a long pull from her coffee and fixed Bryant with a glare. “This time… I wouldn’t call it a fight. She was having fun.”

“Sanitation certainly called it a fight. You spent most of your ammo.”

“Yes, sir,” Megan said coolly.

“But you think it was fun for her?”

Megan nodded. “First time I’ve been in a gunfight with playful banter, sir. She pulled her punches, too.”

Bryant arched an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. Megan did the same. She’d included all of this in her report. She’d written it out as plain as she could. But she sympathized with the Chief. Nothing sounds interesting when it’s written for official consumption.

Bryant tapped his fingers on his desk.

“Could be she didn’t want to kill a federal agent.”

Kat nodded her head. She’d stared down ghouls and zombies, and read about everything else that chilled mortal blood. Most things couldn’t respect a badge. A witch would understand that killing an FBI agent would bring an entire secret government down on their head.

“Possible, sir. But if that were the case, she could’ve slipped away without having to fight. She wasn’t cornered by any means.”

Bryant’s lips twitched. Kat stared at him over the rim of her cup. He wasn’t surprised – but he was dissatisfied. Kat wanted to say something to defend herself. _Corner a witch in a hospital,_ she thought. _Like bottling up smoke._

Bryant shook his head, feigning confusion.

“What do you make of this? Her behavior?”

Megan had been waiting for him to ask that. She’d been working on her response all night.

“Well, sir, with the full moon out, she was at the height of her powers. That likely made her very self-assured… respectfully, sir, I’m no slouch in a fight. But she had the upper hand.”

Bryant smiled. “That’s the first humble thing I’ve heard a sailor say.”

Megan clenched her jaw, suppressing her own smile. _Marines,_ she thought. _They’re all the same._

She continued. “I don’t know why she didn’t try to kill me. She barely scratched the surface of her powers. She danced around me… danced, like we were swing dancing. She could’ve cut me from top to bottom. Or just lit me on fire from the next county over, if she was nice and prepared.”

She looked at Bryant. He was staring right back at her, his face a mask now. She knew what he was thinking. Why’d the witch act like that? What does she want? What do _you_ know? What makes _you_ special? Why didn’t she kill you?

But neither of them had an answer. Megan’s job was to hunt down and kill everything that went bump in the night, especially witches. She’d never known one to hold back. And she’d certainly never known one, _anyone_ , to treat it as fun.

Bryant sighed and interlinked his fingers in front of him. Megan made a conscious effort not to shift in her seat. When superiors did something like that with their hands, it was best not to move. Or even breathe.

“You’ve been here two months now,” he began. “Are we any closer to catching this woman?”

Megan looked him as straight in the eye as she could.

_No, sir._

“We’ll catch her, sir.”

Bryant stared at her.

 

No one else from the department was working. So she collected her ammo, after reams and reams and reams of forms, and checked out. It was still a Sunday, and still technically her day off.

Standing outside the office, she looked up into the sky. The clouds had parted, and it was a beautiful day. It reminded her of Colorado. But she was far from home. Kat returned her gaze to the city. A terrible evil was loose in Seattle. She watched the people walk past her. They had no idea.

It was her job to keep them all safe.

She started walking. She had a witch to catch.

* * *

“Carolina, who am I? I can’t remember, I can’t decide…”

Kat liked to sing as she cooked. She swayed her hips in time with the music, admiring how the fabric of her silk robe moved with her. She’d always liked wearing clothes that flowed when she moved. It made her feel powerful. Among other things.

She stirred the eggs to perfection, turned the heat off, then silenced the music with a shout of “Alexa, stop!” She smiled every time she did that. Almost as easy as magic.

She scooped the eggs onto a plate, sprinkled on salt, pepper, and a dash of Tabasco sauce. Then she piled on the bacon, and topped it all off with her peanut butter drenched English muffin. A large plate packed with food. She’d wash it down with a steaming mug of coffee, served with plenty of cream and sugar. A perfect way to start the day.

She combed a hand through her long hair and sighed. She felt good. Her hunt last night had gone perfectly, she’d gotten a full nine hours of rest, and the snow had stopped. She decided to spend the day shopping for a few supplies, stop by her accountant’s office, then maybe do some reading. A nice, relaxing Sunday.

She finished breakfast quickly. She was ravenous. Hunting and killing took a lot of energy. And fighting with Agent Karrow had taxed her.

Kat froze as she was putting her dish in the sink. Her heart started beating faster at the thought of Karrow. The fight with her. But also… her chocolate skin. Her freckles. Her golden eyes. Her hair, which Kat sadly realized she’d only felt while wearing gloves. Her very smell. _Intoxicating._

Kat shook her head.

She put her dish in the sink and walked to her bedroom. Thinking about Karrow like that was ridiculous. She’d known dozens of women who surpassed her in every capacity. Divine women. All of them had knelt before Kat, begged for her attention. And she’d happily given it to them. She acquired them like toys. And when they weren’t interesting any more, she let them go. No attachments, and no malice. Pick them up, play with them, set them back down. Move on.

She’d known a _lot_ of women more stunning than Karrow could ever be.

Karrow was hardly worth thinking about.

Ridiculous.

…Thinking about those _other women_ was certainly a great use of time though.

Kat smiled. It had been a while since she’d indulged herself. Her heart started beating faster, and a familiar heat sprouted between her legs. The smile grew. There was more than one kind of hunt.

She walked into her bedroom and stripped out of the silk robe, letting it fall around her ankles. She stepped in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror and looked herself up and down. She grinned at her reflection.

She placed her hands on her wide hips and drew her fingers slowly up her body. Her fingers curved around her narrow waste, and hovered over her taut belly, where she could just feel the outline of muscle underneath.

Her hands continued upwards to two large, firm, self supporting breasts. She smiled widest here. They had taken work to perfect. A lot of sleepless nights. And even more innocent blood. But the end result was worth it.

Her hands climbed to her prominent collarbone, then wrapped around her long neck. She continued past her pointed chin and diamond-cut cheekbones until her hands were deep inside her jet-black hair. It was so thick she actually tipped, _tipped,_ her hair dresser – when it would be the easiest thing in the world to have the lucky woman service Kat. But sometimes good work had to be rewarded.

Finished, she repeated the same process, down her body this time, until her hands were scooping under her prominent rear end. The path her fingers made against her alabaster skin was red. She liked it.

_If Karrow could see me now, the **things** she’d beg me to do to her…_

Kat shook her head again. Ridiculous.

She stepped into her walk-in closet and began to dress, starting with a pair of silk undergarments. Custom made. Pausing, she placed a hand to her chin and began to think. The weather outside was cold, but the snow had stopped. Warm clothing would be the usual selection. Certainly what most of Seattle was wearing. But she was feeling… powerful. The hunt had stirred her blood. And she had to admit, looking at herself in the mirror was always a confidence booster.

Normal clothes simply wouldn’t do.

She opted for a pair of tight black dress pants, a slender grey sweater over a simple shirt, and atop it all, a dark leather jacket. She stepped back in front of the mirror and did a few turns.

She smirked. Not good enough. Kat walked back into the closet and hung up the jacket. Leather was fine, but too… obvious. Like she was _trying_ to give someone the impression she could crush them. She shouldn’t have to try. People should know, instinctively, that they were scum under her stiletto heels. Because they _were_.

She scanned her wardrobe. A lengthy process. Then with a satisfied grin, pulled a long coat off its rack. She strolled back in front of the mirror and twirled, the coat flowing behind her. Her grin stretched from ear to ear.

She struck a pose, her heart racing in her ears.

_That’s it… bow down._

Kat laughed and walked out of the room, her coat trailing behind her.

In the living room, Marceline was still resting on the coffee table. Kat had taken off her headphones after waking up.

“Any plans for the day?” Marceline asked.

“I was going to walk to Pike’s Place to pick up some ingredients, then stop by Morrow’s to look in on a few things.”

“Have you called her yet?”

“No, but I’m sure she’s working. Ugh, that woman,” Kat said with a shake of her head. She collected her purse and looked at Marceline. “You wanna come?”

“Um…”

While Marceline thought, Kat checked that she had everything. Marceline agree to come eventually. Her options were to astral project from within the apartment, or from the middle of the busiest part of Seattle. The more interesting option was obvious. But Kat always asked Marceline if she’d like to go, even if the answer was obvious. It was the polite thing to do. No one liked to be reminded that their mobility was… limited.

“Sure,” Marceline finally concluded.

Kat traded her purse in for a leather satchel. Less fashionable, but better for carrying ingredients and human skulls. She slipped Marceline into a velvet bag, and placed the bag inside the satchel. Once she was certain that Marceline wasn’t going anywhere, Kat closed the satchel, collected the last of her things, and headed for the door.

Outside, the air was crisp and clean. Kat pulled the collar of her jacket up high around her neck. The wind tousled her hair and cooled her cheeks. She faced west, and started the walk towards the market. All around her, Seattle was alive, with people going about their days. Kat pitied them all.

The masses of people. Fat, stupid, lazy, drug addicted vermin.

She sneered at them. They were her prey. She was their rightful master. Or... mistress.


End file.
